Not Quite Synchronicity
by Lycoris Calantha
Summary: RoyAi Hundred Themes. Formerly 'Memories.' 081. Footsteps. Roy settled back down in his bed though he knew he wouldn't sleep. He knew he'd see her in the enemy's clutches in the morning. However much he wished she were in his arms instead.
1. 020 Murderer

When I started this, I called it Memories. I changed the title because of a prompt to be seen later.

So, once upon a time, this fanfiction was called 'Memories.' I changed it.

I've been thinking a long, long time on this. Memories is also one of the RoyAi prompts, so I thought, 'I definitely have to change the title eventually!' But I'm kind of fail when it comes to titles…

If you want to read through my rambling of how Not Quite Synchronicity became the title, here's what I spent the good part of an extremely hot afternoon on, reading things I could grasp but not really. There's a shorter version, which was the most coherent part that explained my point, below. I separated it for those who want to skip my waxing philosophical. Enjoy:

Summarized version:

**Synchronicity** is the experience of two or more events that are apparently causally unrelated occurring together in a meaningful manner. To count as synchronicity, the events should be unlikely to occur together by chance.

RoyAi isn't exactly 'causally unrelated,' because they exert influence over each other. Even so, I feel Synchronicity somewhat applies. They are meaningful, they are together (not in the way we'd like, yet, but there's hope). The difference is it's not fully coincidence, because they both strive for something, they work for something, and they ultimately make their future instead of waiting for fate to smash them together (though that isn't unwelcome either, is it?). It's not strictly 'Cause and Effect' because it's RoyAi. It's… well, 'Not Quite Synchronicity.'

Their meeting at Ishbal explains it best, I think. It's very literally not quite Synchronicity. I mean, it's not exactly that because he caused her presence there, somehow, so it's really not fully 'causally unrelated.' It would be a perfect example of Synchronicity if she hadn't known he was in the military. I mean, what are the chances of them randomly meeting in the middle of the battlefield? Of her saving his life the first time she saw him again? The thing is, though, that it's not quite Synchronicity because she knew he'd be there in the military, somewhere. Their meeting then was something she had thought of, probably, once. Not a planned encounter, but an anticipated one. In that case, it's not purely Synchronicity because his being in the military was causal to her joining it, but it's not like he knew, and she probably didn't expect to meet him so soon. See the beauty?

* * *

Ramble of the better part of an afternoon:

**Synchronicity** is the experience of two or more events that are apparently causally unrelated occurring together in a meaningful manner. To count as synchronicity, the events should be unlikely to occur together by chance.

… reading on deep Psych stuff I can't seem to fully appreciate, but I can try (I might butcher it, though), it seems that it's different from (but not contradictory to) causality, that is to say, cause and effect. Carl Gustav Jung coined the term, and described it as "acausal connecting principle", "meaningful coincidence" and "acausal parallelism".

Well, I feel that there's some causality involved (they're both too stubborn to be otherwise,) but I feel that there are moments of synchronicity (but not quite.) They do come together meaningfully, not exactly as 'cause and effect,' but also not exactly 'coincidentally.'

I mean, if it would be fully Synchronicity, then it would be like they were thrust together by fate. It's not like that to me. For me, their relationship is more than that, because they actively seek to support each other. But it's also not Cause and Effect strictly, because it would mean that… um, that would make me think Riza does what she does because of Roy, end of story. I feel their goal is further than that, deeper than that. It's not just, 'he did this, so she did that,' or 'she did this, so he did that.' I mean, I feel he does things for her and vice versa, but it's not always.

Cause and Effect seems, to me, to be purely scientific. Like B is fully dependent on A. Like the meaningfulness can be stripped away easily. It seems 'relativity and quantum mechanics have forced physicists to abandon these assumptions as exact statements of what happens at the most fundamental levels' (which explains why I'm not making much sense), 'but they remain valid at the level of human experience.' In which case, we can observe cause and effect happening, but it's definitely not RoyAi as that pairing is relative. -.- So they are not Cause and Effect. (Say what?)

There is meaningfulness, still. If their goals didn't overlap, surely she wouldn't have joined the military. They are _connected_, but it's not _all_ simply coincidence (because they do things for each other, because they work hard.) Did that make sense?

…But I feel personally that their remeeting at Ishbal explains it best. It's very literally not quite Synchronicity. I mean, it's not exactly that because he caused her presence there, somehow, so it's not fully 'causally unrelated.' It would be a perfect example of Synchronicity if she hadn't known he was in the military. I mean, what are the chances of them randomly meeting in the middle of the battlefield? Of her saving his life? The thing is, though, that it's not quite Synchronicity because she knew he'd be there in the military, somewhere. Their meeting then was something she had thought of, probably, once. Not a planned encounter, but an anticipated one. In that case, it's not purely Synchronicity because his being in the military was causal to her joining it, but it's not like he knew, and she probably didn't expect to meet him so soon. See the beauty?

Am I making sense? I don't think so.

… If someone understands philosophy more than me and knows a better, more fitting term for their relationship, please tell. If someone is displeased or does not see my logic, I welcome messages to work the concept out.

Thus, the not very imaginative title of 'Not Quite Synchronicity.' (It comes pretty close, though?) Because they make their future. I think I kind of like it.

Anyhow, even if it's not quite accurate, and I've been rambling for ages, I think I like this. Anyways, it's a title, right?

* * *

**Hundred Themes RoyAi - 020**

Murderer

Ah, yes. The informal 'You' form of writing. It's totally not in my grammar book, and I think my English teacher would throw a fit if she would see it.

EDIT: I've been informed that second person is a valid, perfectly usable form, albeit uncommon except in fanfiction. I still say it's fun to write. Also reposted for grammatical errors.

* * *

Mr. Hughes was talking with someone.

You are high up in some obscure location, to watch the soldiers.

A battlefield is full of the dead and the dying. The latter of which could still be dangerous.

You scan the battlefield.

After Hughes was swooning, probably over some girlfriend of his, that would be common camp knowledge the way he talked about it to anyone and everyone... and his companion says something for him to shut up.

You can't see his companion, Mr. Hughes was facing you.

Short, dark hair. In uniform. That was all you could tell, from your current position.

You see movement. You focus on them, you prepare your gun, training the lens on the attacker not five feet away.

They don't notice.

A man rises behind them ominously.

They move for their weapons quickly, Mr. Hughes managing to get his knives out, but his companion fumbling.

Unarmed.

You have to do your duty, of course.

The man was headed for the kill, doomed to death and desperate to take someone with him.

You aim and fire, efficiently reloading just as he is knocked to the side, a bullet through the temple.

Your hands do not shake.

You see Mr. Hughes' companion exclaim, hurriedly putting his gloves on, with a feral light in his eyes, whirling in your general direction.

Mr. Hughes says something, probably about you, placating him somewhat.

That man always had some affinity with news.

And gossip.

Perhaps he was an old woman...

You gasp softly as you study his companion.

It's Mr. Mustang.

How long has it been...?

And you could swear that he looked in your direction with something like familiarity.

Like a forgotten memory about to resurface.

He looks at your direction, like he's trying to see you, the young girl all those months and years ago.

You put your gun down. Your shift was over five minutes ago.

You look at you hands.

Your hands are red with the lives of hundreds, though it is rare for you to even see your target's face.

Something about _him_ makes you feel like the lost little girl you once were.

* * *

He looks like he's looking for something. Or someone.

Mr Hughes spots you first, and he's thanking you. For saving them.

You stand up, facing him.

The hood falls from your face.

He gasps, not exaggeratedly, but a small one of true, honest surprise.

You look out of place in the field, your uniform looks far too large for your slender frame.

Nineteen years old, and already a bloodstained killer.

A murderer.

"It's been a while, Mr. Mustang," you say.

Mr. Hughes looks surprised.

His eyes widen in recognition, like one who knew something but hoped it wasn't true.

He looks at you with a strange mix of emotions.

Is that horror on his face?

You have killed, after all.

Just like anyone else here.

"No, perhaps I should call you Major Mustang now."

It was a reminder you were in the army now, too.

Chained to a thankless life where you are forced to take the lives of innocents.

He has yet to speak, you almost smile, but you haven't smiled in months, you aren't quite sure if you remember how.

It was odd. He used to be extremely eloquent, giving long flowery speeches that made girls swoon.

"Have you begun to remember?" You ask, your face haunted and tired, gaunt from long shifts and sleep deprivation.

Mr. Hughes is looking at you oddly.

Perhaps he thought you were a vengeful ex-girlfriend or something.

You knew Mr. Mustang had at least ten of those.

And that was several years ago. You wonder how many vengeful ex-girlfriends he has now.

You almost smile when you remember those vain airheaded girls who clung to him so close you asked him if he was getting them surgically removed.

"... How could I forget," he says, and you seem him appraising you.

You probably looked terrible, though he wouldn't tell you that. Your eyes were sharper, more emotionless. Almost glacial.

There were dark rings under your eyes.

Your hands were bruised, callused. Actually, your entire body was bruised.

Half healed injuries dotted your skin.

You were also thin, unnaturally so.

It was an inside joke that soldiers didn't look far off from the corpses in the field.

Somehow, you've changed in his eyes.

From the teacher's daughter to this soldier with a heavy burden.

You are a murderer, several times over.

And the strangest thing is that you wouldn't be here had it not been for the man standing in front of you.


	2. 072 Drawing a Boundary Line

**Hundred Themes RoyAi - ****072**

Drawing a Boundary Line

(Mustang has a lot of bonds, it crosses and twists like a spider's web.)

Disclaimer: Don't own...

Chap reposted.

I want to ask my dear, beloved readers if I improved from the last one.

* * *

There are rules in the military.

The one against forming close personal relationships with fellow officers was probably the most disregarded: most soldiers managed to form bonds of camaraderie, trust, and friendship.

These bonds are sometimes lost to time, but for the most part, even if they last, are harmless to the higher ups.

_For the most part._

However, there was a chance that bonds of camaraderie would develop into something fraternal: a possible risk.

An example of which would be the bond of Roy Mustang and Maes Hughes. They seemed like bumbling idiots, but were far cleverer than they were given credit for. They stumbled upon a well-kept military secret.

Maes Hughes had been eliminated, frighteningly loyal to his cause until the end.

However, the fact was that most of the time, these bonds usually stopped short of being seriously involved with personal family life.

However, there were exceptions.

Such as Maes Hughes, whose family life would be common military knowledge, mostly because of the proud father himself, much to the chagrin of the others. _'... my darling Elysia, whose just turned three this year!'_

Even less common are the bonds of a single unit to be almost like a family, albeit a mostly dysfunctional, predominantly male one.

Such as in the case of Roy Mustang and his subordinates, who were an extremely close-knit unit with a single purpose.

'To support their leader.'

They were loyal, elite in their own field, and they were close to each other, sharing personal stories and even having a sort of mascot: Hawkeye's well-trained dog who could inspire fear in at least one of the members of their group. (Fine. Exactly one member in the group.)

Such bonds could be dangerous, and though these units are effective and efficient, these were dispersed when it would seem the slightest threat. Discreetly.

Most bonds never develop in a manner threatening the higher ups, mostly because the ranking system of promotions and demotions in the military was hardly the breeding ground for friendship. Mostly, it was a cutthroat battle up the ranks.

Sometimes, the bonds toward new recruits would be like a mentor to a student, or maybe something paternal.

Such as that of Roy Mustang's (and almost all military personnel who are positively affiliated with the Fullmetal Alchemist) concern over Edward and Alphonse Elric.

Of course, none of these bonds that might, given circumstances, would be nearly as dangerous, and as taboo, than an actual romantic relationship developing within the ranks.

One reason was that female officers were hardly the most looked up to in the military, and usually stayed within the lower ranks.

Homosexual relationships were hardly popular, most soldiers sticking with dating outside.

However, the relationship between Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye could not be mistaken for anything else for anyone who has known them for more than an hour. She was at his side for approximately 99.9 percent of his waking hours, all of the hours he was on duty, until she had been reassigned.

Roy hated the Führer, not just because of all he had done, not only because he was a homunculus, but because he realized Mustang's Achilles' heel.

And even he didn't notice how he'd come to rely on his First Lieutenant at first. How he'd depended on her for so much.

Of course, he could assume that they only kept her close as a hostage because she was his highest ranked officer, but he doubts it after seeing Ed's face after the Führer had used Winry as a hostage.

(He always knew that pipsqueak had feelings for his mechanic.)

But the oddest thing was, even if they were in that maybe suspicious propinquity, there were lines they never did cross.

Once, when she'd showed him her father's research etched onto her flesh. She wasn't even in the military then.

(He held her tenderly, almost reverently that night, and she felt and knew that it wasn't wholly because of the knowledge seared into her back.)

He hadn't been the least bit improper, kind and understanding and wincing sympathetically at the marks imprinted on her skin. It was an effective, but cruel method to keep a secret safe.

There were other moments, short times that they cherished in their hearts, memories that neither would forget.

There were also times where they did show care towards each other, that may seem platonic at first glance, but not so towards the people who knew them well.

Alphonse Elric could recount the time First Lieutenant Hawkeye had lost the will to live once she thought Mustang was dead. Also, how when she did snap out of it upon his arrival, she started towards him, very unlike what she should have done, following military procedures. He could also tell you how he reprimanded her for believing the enemy, and then telling her he still trusted her to watch his back.

(He could also tell you about the look in their eyes, pained. Yearning.)

Their meetings, their touches were always brief.

Fleeting.

There was a boundary line they never cross. In fact, they are always within the limits of the rules for the most part that it seemed suspicious.

In office, they are always within bounds, always observing protocol and period. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less.

On the field, they seem protective of each other, like halves of a whole. Like protecting one who does not really need to be protected but is, for the sake of protecting one who is precious.

It wasn't destiny, they seemed to acquaint themselves around each other subconsciously.

It wasn't perfect, they'd both dealt with grief to last them several lifetimes.

But though there was a boundary line they never seemed to cross, though they weren't destined, though they weren't perfect, it was life.

**It was love.**


	3. 014 Covered Eyes

Is this and the chapter before this better than the last one? I want to improve, and I'd greatly appreciate your comments. I mean, was the last chapter that bad?

**Hundred Themes RoyAi - 014**

Covered eyes

* * *

Her eyes were burnt into his memory, as he supposed his were also etched into his.

They know each other's eyes. Know each emotion, each feature. He knows that if

They'd find each other in the dark if they had to.

(And they would, too.)

Garnet symbolized constancy, faith, loyalty, and strength.

She was always -there-.

Protecting him, aiding him.

Sacrificing and hurting and giving everything for him.

She was strong.

Freaky strong, not merely physically... but because even though she has flaws, she's still the strongest woman he'd ever met.

And that was saying something.

There was one time where he'd been forced to aim a gun at her.

Some bastard terrorist was aiming at hostages, his gloved were taken, and that if he didn't shoot his lieutenant...

Though his accuracy was hardly like hers, she'd held herself straight, rigid, knowing as he aimed dead center at her chest that he knew that there was a gun near where her hands were tied (at the small of her back). She twisted her hands so they were reaching up. She bent her arms at the elbow, catching hold of the weapon.

She had several more clips on her person: idiots thought her rank was for show. They'd only stripped her of obvious weaponry, leaving her with extra cartridges.

She supposed her eyes had changed, like hope. Because at that moment, he shifted his aim and fired.

The loud noise was startling, but to the terrorists, the fact that she hadn't fallen was worse.

They also did not notice the second shot, the exact same moment Roy had fired, she had too. Her hands were free. They were numb, though, and Roy would have to buy some time. Somehow, he understood by the look in her eyes.

"Oops, I missed," he said nonchalantly. "I'll do it again."

"Don't miss again."

"I'm not such a good shot," Roy smirked. "My lieutenant, on the other hand..." he trailed off, firing at the man who spoke.

He trained the gun at the others, but he only had four shots left. He didn't seem worried. He tried to make those count, taking out some of the men surging out of ranks, shooting at the one going for the civilians.

He heard another gun joining his as Riza joined him, approaching him as she fired round after round, swiftly reloading when she ran out. She handed him several bullets, and he slid them in with practiced ease.

"Thanks, Hawkeye."

"Of course, sir."

He thought she looked beautiful then, her garnet eyes glittering, hard.

"Weren't you worried I'd hit you?"

"I trust you Sir."

And as Roy glanced into her eyes, he knew it was true.

But he couldn't help but be worried.

* * *

Onyx symbolized clearness and dignity.

He had a dream. He knew it well and was determined to get it.

Anyone who stands in the way will be -burned-.

And it was kinda funny, how he could pick up his dignity from the ground, and somehow be dignified while... pulling a rabbit out of a hat or some such nonsense.

Later, as they were compiling the report on the incident, he still thought of her words.

He was worried, because her willingness to do anything for him was scary in certain light; she'd die for him.

He knew that.

He was able to survive in the military because he had a certain clarity of thought that enabled him to analyze people's character.

And he knew Riza Hawkeye was about as loyal as... Well, there was no comparison.

The thing is... He didn't want her to die.

He needed her right there by his side.

"Riza," he said, managing to sound formal while saying her first name.

"Sir?" it was quizzical, though still formal enough for him to be reminded of their positions.

"I..." he paused, pondering whether he should say it or not. "I don't want you to die."

She looked oddly at him, like he was an idiot. She closed her eyes, breathed, a long suffering sigh. "Of course, Sir."

"I mean it. Please... stay with me." He looked young at that moment. Much too young to be involved in politics and Central of all places.

"What do you think I've been doing for the past six years," she said tartly, opening her eyes and narrowing them in what might be irritation. "Sir."

He smiled. He saw the understanding in her eyes. She understood him again. She always did.


	4. 013 Betrayal

Is this and the chapter before this, and the chapter before this better than the first one? I want to improve, and I'd greatly appreciate your comments.

**Hundred Themes RoyAi - 013**

Betrayal

(This is totally AU, I'd publish it in another oneshot, but it's part of the hundred themes.)

This also happens to be the closest thing I'll ever get to angst. Is it angst?

* * *

She danced with him in a low-cut, tight dress, showing ample cleavage and the soft fabric hugging her curves.

It was probably the reason he was on the receiving end of many, many glares that night. (They wouldn't envy him after tonight.)

He didn't notice.

He was slightly drunk and just sober enough to not make a fool of himself by trying to seduce her on the dance floor.

She gazed at him with garnet eyes, framed with heavy eyelashes, blinking slow and luxuriously. Captivating.

He held her closer to him, just a little more.

She smelt of spices and rhododendron. _Danger._

He didn't notice small things. Like how she shook slightly, and it was not because of their proximity. Like how, when his face was near hers due to a faint dizzy spell, she'd blushed lightly.

Like how she'd said his name in her soft, husky voice, 'Roy,' and how it sounded familiar on her lips, once upon a time.

The song ended. A new one started, fast and... and other couples on the dance floor were doing... er... improper things.

He crushed her almost savagely to himself with some sort of desperation; their bodies molded into one, a perfect fit. She smiled slowly, sensuously. Not showing the pain she felt, the horror of what she has to do.

She was the Hawk, and she always got her target.

Even if the man she's paid to kill happens to be the only man she ever loved. _The only man she loves_, she amended. She loves him, even now.

She can't kill him! She couldn't! He'd left their hometown years ago, big dreams of becoming a hero. He'd joined the government, became a politician. By the time she'd found out, she was already deep in the assassination business. The only place in their society that a strong woman might make a name for herself. He was rising up the ranks so fast she was certain he had enemies.

_And he had_, he'd caught the eye of people who wanted him dead.

He'd never have anything to do with her, even if he'd known she was there. So she'd tried to forget him.

She'd killed men, seducing them almost exactly like now. She knew how to use her assets to her advantage. She was one of the best in the business.

Except for one thing.

She was taking too long tonight.

* * *

Roy blinked at the stunning woman in his arms, seeming slightly dazed.

"What am I doing...?" he looks at his surroundings.

A bar.

"Oh," he says. "I'm sorry Miss..."

She smiles coyly, fluttering her eyelashes. Something she'd never done in her old life. He must not recognize her. "I don't like giving my name."

He grins. "Of course," he says gallantly, without skipping a beat. "I should leave soon," she presses closer, and his eyes glaze over slightly. "Er, maybe in a bit."

She lets go of her grasp on him. Just for a moment, to cover her mouth elegantly as a distraction. With the other, she reached for the slim keen-edged blade hidden along the back of her thigh, the long slit on the side of her dress giving her access.

It was long, she thought. Not quite a dagger, but not a sword.

You could run maybe two people through with it.

Guns were impractical in front of so many witnesses, she thought, but she still missed the feel of the gun, the recoil of a shot, the satisfaction of always hitting her target...

He'd taught her how to shoot a gun.

She had to stop thinking about things like that. He would never be a part of her life anymore after this. Not until she died.

She hid the knife along the inside of her wrist, using her ring finger and pinky to keep it in place, away from his sight. She used her hip as added support, so that her position could look somewhat natural. With her other hand, she hooked her arm around his, inviting him for a drink. Leading him away from the thick of the gyrating crowd.

He'd hesitated before agreeing.

They drank brandy, the amber liquid tasted strong as fire as it slid down their throats.

He tangled her hair in his fingers, pale gold locks tumble haphazardly. He kissed her, alcohol mingled in their breath, heavy and bitter but, in a way, sweet.

She smiled; a sad, brittle smile into their kiss. She places a hand on his chest. The other was approaching his back.

"Wha--?" he parted the kiss, looking bewildered.

She had stabbed him, driving the knife through his chest from the back.

A scream. Shrieking.

She never made such a commotion happen before. _She didn't care anymore_, she noticed, no longer surprised.

He gasped, once. His eyes darted over to her, to her face. Studying her features.

Soft blonde hair framing a pale face. Expressive garnet eyes. A strong jaw. Kiss-stung lips. Strong slim build. Shorter than him but somehow powerful. She was beautiful.

"You... Are you..."

She gives him a sad, fragile smile. "Roy," she whispers, as if in farewell.

She draws back the knife slightly, then pushes it forward, in a swift motion as she stepped _into_ it, impaling herself with the blade.

They toppled over together, the knife sliding away, clattering elsewhere, crimson blood pooling onto the stone floor.

His blood, her blood... mingled together.

They lay like that, waiting for death, not minding the chaos they'd caused.

People screaming.

"I loved you," she whispered. "I still do. I waited for you... Roy." Waited for a long, long time.

The bartender muttering that it was too late: they couldn't be saved.

His eyes were clouding over, "It's really you..." he rasped, struggling for a little bit longer. "I... I... didn't think I could do it anymore... Follow my dream... The entire government was... corrupt."

... She had known. They had been the ones to hire her._ 'Eliminate Roy Mustang.'_

A young man watched them with his pretty, blonde partner. Both were shocked. They might have known them once upon a time.

He reached forward, catching a lock of hair with his rapidly decreasing strength. She reached for his hand, and they threaded their fingers instinctively. Tightly. Together.

"I love you too," Roy whispered. He smiled a tired, soft, world-weary smile. The smile someone makes at the last moment, when he finds what he's been searching for all along.

He mouthed her name silently, his last words.

'Riza...'

He stopped breathing. She laid her free hand against his cheek. She kissed him once, softly.

"Goodbye," she sighed, a final breath, and was gone.

* * *

Paramedics, doctors, the people at the morgue... They couldn't pry the two apart.

In the end, they were buried together. It hadn't seemed like the two would have minded, anyhow.

Aside from the fact that she killed him, then herself, of course.

... Tsk, details...

Love lost and found, too late...

_"The richest love is that which submits to the arbitration of time."_

_-Lawrence Durrell_

Time's judgement?:

PASS!

* * *

I thought it suited the theme because she betrayed Roy. She betrayed herself. And she betrayed her employers. But in the end, they were both sort of happy. It's bittersweet. And, yeah, I couldn't resist the end thing.


	5. 051 Embracing from the Back

I want to improve, and I'd greatly appreciate your comments.

**Hundred Themes RoyAi - 051**

Embracing from the back

(An attempt at descriptive writing. Second person.)

Oh, this'll be on hiatus for a while after this, by the way, I'm sorry, but I'm working on something…

* * *

"We're done for today, Sir," you say from your position; seated on a dark mahogany desk, files neatly stacked on the tabletop watching your superior fumble with his paperwork.

"Right, Hawkeye. Good job today." It was amusing, you decide, to see the Führer of all people sighing in relief as he pushed stacks of papers away from him, treating the papers like one would a rabid dog.

"Sir!" you salute him, keeping your face composed..

He leaves the building before you, (you had to clean up after his mess), his heavy boots slapping against the polished floor.

There was a second set of footsteps, you, not quite as heavy, but slightly faster as the owner tried to catch up to him.

He slows his pace slightly, and you catch up, trotting briskly. The two of you pass the military gates, nodding at the guards without slowing. You have a destination.

"It's been a while since we've walked like this, right, Hawkeye?" he asks you, glancing at you before settling his gaze at the gray pavement. It was slightly darker than usual. It had rained this morning, and the water had not completely evaporated.

You give him a droll smile, not slowing your pace. "Yes sir, it's been so long since yesterday."

He pouted, and you almost laugh to see such a high ranking officer look so comical, you managed to hold that laughter in, at least.

"Sir, you are the Führer. Please act as such."

He rolled his eyes. "Riza," he said slowly, deliberately, trying to be as improper as possible. "If all I had to for to become Führer was to have an abnormally good poker face, we probably wouldn't have to go through all we have."

You give a tight smile. "True," she agreed. "But decorum is still a necessity that even King Bradley possessed."

"Amiability is not decorum. He had been improper in serious situations as well."

"But he did all his paperwork without complaint. And without prodding."

He looks almost comically hurt.

You pass the rest of their walk to your apartment that way; he'd insisted on it, though it really should have been the other way around.

You stop at a nondescript door in a nondescript apartment building. She unlocked the door with a brass key that matched the knob, tarnished from long years. The paint was old, showing bits of plaster from beneath. You invite him in for a quick cup of tea, he accepted.

It was routine.

You make him lemon tea, steeping it for five minutes and adding two teaspoons of honey, stirring it ten times clockwise, and ten times counter-clockwise. You set the porcelain cup in front of him. He thanks you, takes it, and drinks it quickly, while scalding. You watch him passively though; the humor had long been gone.

That was routine, too.

He stands up, murmuring goodbye. "I'll see you at work tomorrow?" he finishes, a question, and you raise an eyebrow.

"You tell me this now?"

A smirk plays on his lips. "They say better late than never."

You just look at him sternly. He promptly wilts.

"It's nothing," he mumbles.

You stand up, leading him to the door. "I'll be there," you say. You understand that there were times he wasn't sure what was what anymore. You were his constant.

He smiles. "Okay," and reaches out to turn the knob. You exchange pleasantries and then you say goodbye.

At least, until tomorrow, when the cycle repeats again. As it always did.

As the door is slowly swinging shut, he calls your name. "Riza." There was something in his tone that made you half turn around.

He embraces you before you notice, and only your familiarity with him lets him escape unscathed, (others would have had a bullet to the skull,) and threading scarred, callused fingers around your waist and holding you close.

He had never done that before.

Never hugged you, because though you were young and scared and your father had died in front of the two of you, you seemed untouchable, unaffected. Strong.

But he does so now, and you do not pull away.

That is enough.


	6. 088 Given Name

I want to improve, and I'd greatly appreciate your comments.

**Hundred Themes RoyAi - 088**

_Given name_

* * *

Elizabeth was a name she was given in a secret meeting. She hadn't liked it at first.

Elizabeth was a name that was like frills and lace and big poofy dresses. It was associated with teatimes and parties. Of royalty and banquets and curtsies and airheaded tittering nonsense. Of high-society and whatnot.

Everything she was not.

She knew she was nothing like an 'Elizabeth' and that the name did not suit her in the least.

"Elizabeth is a noble name," he told her once. "You are noble."

She tolerated the name. It was merely a name, after all, and not anything particularly binding. An assumed name, and assumed persona.

But she couldn't help but be flattered on the usage of her persona in office on occasion.

Any woman would, she knew.

"Elizabeth is definitely beautiful! And she's really nice and..."

But it was fake. False, a façade. No one else outside their small group even knew it was really just her.

Since 'Elizabeth' only ever called when she was not in office, they had a joke.

_"Hello Elizabeth! How are you?"_

"Why, Mr. Roy, thank for always calling me. Are you calling me from the office again?"

_"Yes, I just had to hear your voice."_

"Oh, aren't you smooth," she'd say, knowing the blissful smile he'd be assuming. He was good at dissembling. "But wouldn't your scaaaary lieutenant get mad at you if you don't get back to work?"

She knew perfectly well that she would not be there to make him work. He knew it too, and they exploited their joke, strengthening their alibi.

_"Don't worry, she's on her vacation right now,"_ he'd say, giving the official excuse. _"We just took care of one of out assignments. I let her take a day off since I got some load off my shoulders."_

"Oh, how nice. The store's keeping me busy. I don't even think I can go home for a while..." the conversation goes on noncommitally, merely showing a besotted officer and whatnot to whoever may tap the phone.

The other men always leave the room, uncomfortable with Roy's borrowing of Armstrong's sparklies.

The other military personnel would all wonder if Riza was the only reason Roy Mustang ever bothered working. They had good reason to wonder, especially when he ran off, looking panicked and determined after the cut-off call to his 'beautiful girlfriend'.

Perhaps she was giving birth, they speculated, and he hurried to be there. They spread rumors that made had Roy smirking for weeks and Riza looking disapproving for the same amount of time.

More than usual, at least.

They did not notice the faint flush on both Roy and Riza's faces and the joking glances of their closest coworkers, however.

Riza's name spoke volumes to those who knew her well enough. It spoke volumes to anyone who paid enough attention.


	7. 019 Things One Cannot Understand

I want to improve, and I'd greatly appreciate your comments.

**Hundred Themes RoyAi - 019**

Things one cannot understand

* * *

There are things in the world that one cannot understand.

Such as why cookies and cream go well together. Why popcorn with salt_ and_ sugar tastes good.

And of course, there is no real, concrete, profound understanding of Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye.

How can you claim to understand the two people who would give up anything for the success of the other?

To claim to understand two people who would go screaming at the other for mistakes but would continue on as if nothing happened scant moments later, and who would go through extremes to help each other, to save each other...

There was just no way you could summarize them. No way that could pin their relationship to a board by giving an exact description.

They _were_, and they _are_. They _will be_, and that was all.

* * *

Roy couldn't understand why Riza always followed him. When he'd mentioned it to her, she was surprised.

She told him that she had always meant to find him when she'd joined the military.

It was just that she hadn't expected to find him so soon after signing up. Barely a year after he had left, she enlisted and promptly became a student.

There, she was average among the others aside from her drive to succeed. She'd made few friends there, and her true best friends were the guns they practiced with, trained with, and slept with.

Students training for the army were sent to the field whether they were prepared or not.

She had been lucky, her specialty, drive, and determination made her a good sniper and she hadn't been sent to the front lines.

She hadn't been sent to die.

Well, surely, the military couldn't care less if she had died at first, but she grew valued as a skilled soldier in her own right. Riza was determined, Roy could understand that. anyone could understand that.

But not everyone could understand why the slight girl was even in the army in the first place. That, Roy understood.

It was because she had nothing left. Her father was gone, and her grandfather was still dabbling in the military. Even he, her father's student, had packed up and left. Even though she had known he was leaving when she entrusted her back to him, he could help but feel guilty for leaving her. At the time, he thought, _'Better her this way than dead, as she would be if she joined the military'. _

He hadn't belittled her abilities: she was strong, and stubborn. But he knew all too well what life a non-alchemist soldier would lead, especially if that soldier was female.

But she showed up, and though he hadn't really understood at first, he accepted it after a while.

He didn't understand it.

Then again, he didn't need to.


	8. 080 Categorize

I want to improve, and I'd greatly appreciate your comments.

Hundred Themes RoyAi – 080

Short, I know, but there's supposed to be a hundred of this, so let some short ones slide? Please?

* * *

**Categorize**

There are two kinds of people in the world, in his opinion. Those who were for him and those who were against him.

Though sometimes, he couldn't be sure which side Hawkeye was.

"No more paperwork," he whined, slumped over the table, despair in his voice.

"You need to have those finished today," she said blandly, without even looking up from the gun she had disassembled and was in the process of cleaning.

He looked at her, begging silently. He sort of reminded Riza of Black Hayate.

"No," she said before he'd opened his mouth, "you may _not_ take a break."

Roy could never figure out how it was that she could cope with him so well; she'd know exactly what to do, and when to do it. What he was going to say, and she curbed it before the words even left his lips.

There was something almost like a smile on her lips, and she spoke. "At least, not until you finish one of those stacks, sir."

He grinned boyishly and grabbed a sheet. "I'll hold you to that, Hawkeye." She just harrumphed and concentrated on the gleaming gun parts laid out on her table, ready for assembling.

* * *

And when he did finish the stack, a good hour and thirty minutes later, she poured him his coffee herself.

That was another thing, he thought, sipping the scalding liquid with relish. She always knew what to do just before he rebelled.

Or tried to rebel.

He frowned. Upon thinking, he realized that she didn't actually have to do all this. She could make him do his paperwork even without the promise of a break.

Yet she let him. Thus another point in favor of her being 'for him' instead of 'against him'.

Riza Hawkeye baffled him sometimes, making him ponder if he should make a third category for her, all for her own.


	9. 098 After the Rain

I want to improve, and I'd greatly appreciate your comments.

**Hundred Themes RoyAi - 098**

After the Rain

(This is short. Very very short. It hurt me deep to actually post something so... short. But I figured that I had to do a hundred of this, and a hundred of the EdWin themes, I may as well finish, yeah? 190-something words, about…)

* * *

When it didn't rain, the Führer always escorted his Riza Hawkeye to her apartment.

It was a deviation from their usual schedule, but a scheduled one nonetheless.

When it did, she stayed over in his home. Because his alchemy in the rain was something the world would be better off without seeing.

_(Falman, Havoc, and Breda asked why she didn't stay over permanently, they were met with glares-of-death and barely-veiled threats on losing jobs. Fuery never asked.)_

He was looking after her, still. Keeping his promise to her father.

It was raining well into the end of their shifts, and it was by unspoken agreement that they left. She fixed his paperwork into somewhat presentable stacks on his desk before catching up to him.

No words were exchanged, and there were few unnecessary gestures, but there was something there. Something in the middle of seeming nonchalance and veiled double meanings in words exchanged.

An understanding, a promise. A silent pledge that bound them close.

And they were there, however inconvenient it seemed to others.

They were there, despite all the problems they encountered.

They were there, in that point and time.

Together.


	10. 073 Parting

I want to improve, and I'd greatly appreciate your comments.

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 073

Parting

Still short. Ah, well. The others may be shorter, but I refuse to write less than a hundred words, so don't worry.

* * *

They parted several times, but they don't mind as much as they might, they always find each other again, anyways.

They parted after her father's funeral, after secrets had been told and showed.

She joined the military academy, studying and practicing and becoming good. Hopefully good enough to help that driven man with his cause.

On her last year, she was pulled out to help. She met him again that year. She saved his life that year.

The war finished, and he was promoted enough that he could pick his subordinates.

She was one of them, the only female. Nevertheless, she was the scariest person on their force.

She was also the known to be found wherever he was, a silent shadow. She was known to be efficient; the one to go to should Mustang dare think to slack off.

There were times they were not together. Other people found it odd to continue their jobs with the presence of Mustang without Hawkeye or Hawkeye without Mustang.

It was like there was something missing, something integral.

Hawkeye was sometimes found in the shooting range. It was a sight to see her superior watching her, wearing the standard headpiece to protect the ears from the sounds on the range and with a smug look on his face.

He wasn't always there, but people could see his effect on Hawkeye.

(Stronger. More determined. Because he was important, he needs her to protect him and she just can't let him down...)

She was reassigned in an effort to restrain his movements.

Maybe they thought he'd abandon his paperwork and be fired. (She came back anyways. To him.)

Because they were drawn together, like a moth to a flame, and they couldn't be as they are without the other.

And no parting force could truly separate them.


	11. 011 Liar

I want to improve, and I'd greatly appreciate your comments.

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 011

**Liar**

**

* * *

  
**

"I'm alright," Roy stubbornly said, looking sullen in his bed.

Riza sighed. "Father refuses to teach you while you're sick. So get well, and stop lying."

"I'm fine."

"Liar."

"Don't call me a liar!" he complained.

The effect was rather ruined, Riza reflected, by the simple fact that his complaint was immediately followed with a coughing fit that shook the very bed he was entrapped in.

She rolled her eyes.

"It's your own fault that you try to break out of the room the moment you're able to drag yourself out of bed," she informed him.

"I won't anymore," he smiled appeasingly. "I promise."

Roy thought he looked pretty convincing.

Riza thought he sucked at lying.

Deciding to humor him -- he wouldn't get far, and he didn't have the right state of mind to wait very long. It would take five minutes, she thought, before he would try to sneak out and get caught by her. Then she's retie him to the bed.

Methodically, she nodded, loosening before entirely removing the straps that kept him tied to the bed. Still holding them, she left the room. In a few minutes, she knew, and he'd attempt to sneak out.

He tried to leave the room, as it turned out, exactly two minutes and sixteen seconds after she had left the room.

Herding the young man inside, the slight blonde sighed. "I told you so. You will not be untied until you get better."

Roy hung his head, and Riza left the room.

* * *

Roy tried to leave the hospital bed. He bit a curse back. He felt like hell, and his team was close to shredded back then.

Yelling at Riza didn't help in the slightest, either and... he looked up.

Riza met his eyes squarely. "Keep resting. You'll get better soon enough. Don't rush."

He grimaced weakly at her. "I'm fine," he told her, attempting to sit up on the hospital bed.

"Liar," she informed him, just as he grimaced, the pain making him hurt all over again. He hunched over, telling himself not to scream -- no one knew who the enemies were around here.

She was at his side in a heartbeat, all gentle hands and firm reproaches. She eased him back down carefully down onto the pillows and sheets.

"I told you so," she informed him, a little smugly, just as she had once upon a time, when they were smaller.

"Hawkeye..." he warned her. He didn't need anyone to see their closeness, to label it as one more thing to use against them.

"Sir?" she asked him, her tone completely innocent, stepping back when he was settled and saluting.

Her eyes flashed with something akin to when he'd confronted her when they were younger. She'd put a frog on his bed.

He had been understandably pissed.

She looked vaguely teasing, a small smile lit her face up briefly. "Please don't move, or I'll ask the nurses for full-body restraints."

He couldn't help the small smirk that looked almost boyish on his face. "I will never do it again." He winked.

"Liar," she told him once more, this time batting her eyelashes mockingly at her superior officer, a parody of one of the heavily made-up girls he used to date when he was younger.

"Say what you will, sir, but we both know you're lying."

Bedridden, Roy could only smile ruefully as Riza tucked his sheets more comfortably and left the room briskly.

* * *

(The 'Frog Incident' is something that will be fully explained in Prompt 69. Roy doesn't want you to know, so peruse it at your pleasure when it comes out.)


	12. 064 The Scenery from a Car Seat

I want to improve, and I'd greatly appreciate your comments.

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 064

**The scenery from a car seat

* * *

  
**

The scenery from a car seat was, quite frankly, not all that great. Things flew by quickly, and landmarks and familiar faces were gone in a blur.

Roy Mustang decided that watching the places pass by quickly was just about as useful as not seeing anything in the entire duration of the trip.

Besides, braking all of a sudden made for a very frightening experience.

He never particularly liked the feeling of being jolted out of his seat and nearly slamming into the windshield.

Riza drove him around most times, if ever, so usually it wasn't as much of a pain as when Havoc or Breda drove. Or even, Heaven forbid, Armstrong.

The man was scary as hell behind the wheel -- Roy thought nothing was scarier than Louis Armstrong in all his normal, pink-sparkling glory, but he was very much mistaken.

Falman wasn't so bad at driving, he supposed, with him never getting lost, and Fuery was cautious - which, while admirable, was vaguely annoying when he drove slowly enough to have been mistaken to have engine problems.

Repeatedly.

* * *

"Stop the car," Mustang ordered, and Riza's capable maneuvering made said car screech to a halt.

He jerked forward, head colliding painfully with something very hard and very solid.

"I hate it when you do that," he told her tiredly, head resting on the dashboard.

"Yes, sir," she said placidly.

"Where's 'it won't happen again'?" he asked, a little teasingly.

"I do not see the point in making promises I cannot keep," she answered flatly.

Roy decided not to comment, and instead took the opportunity to turn his head slightly to see the window.

The scenery from a car seat could be fascinating on occasion, he thought, his face still pressed against the dashboard.

"Sir," Riza's voice broke him from his reverie.

Of course, he thought as he lifted his head, a little wearily, but he was ready now.

Of course, the person who sat in the driver's seat was more fascinating.


	13. 054 O ChildSama

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 054

**O Child-sama**

When they met, it wasn't particularly the best first meeting.

Her father introduced his only daughter to his new student. Her response was to bow politely and stare at him.

Needless to say, Roy was uncomfortable. He was used to the attentions of women, but this girl, three years younger than him, was staring at him like he was a specimen to be examined.

She drew back and asked her father why it was that he had chosen Roy of all people.

Roy had felt vaguely insulted.

He treated her distantly, acknowledging her, but not speaking with her unless necassary. She left him alone pretty much the same way.

That changed after a while.

It was maybe a few weeks after he'd been apprenticed. He noticed something odd about his teacher's daughter. After all, most young girls played with dolls. Most households with young girls would have some sign that a female lived amongst them. One that enjoyed pink sparkly objects and believed in unicorns or some other such nonsense.

This house was free of such, the simplicity of the furnishings and the lack of clutter signifying by all accounts that an ordinary person lived here. Alone at best and someone who never stayed at home much.

Riza, he knew, stayed at home all the time, yet there was no sign at all. What, after all, had a pre-adolescent have to do at home that did not cause a mess?

In his master's library, he found, was an assortment of books in many different subjects. It was an odd collection, he noticed, with alchemical texts and scientific tomes along with books about history and mathematics and obscure theories.

All of which are perfectly normal for a scientist to have, but there were other books. He found that there were numerous cookbooks and books about gardening and... he found a small collection of romance novels.

Roy decided that his master was a strange, strange man.

* * *

He walked into the library easily. His master was away, and he never saw Riza around.

"What are you doing here?"

He turned around quickly, resisting the urge to squeal like a schoolgirl. He turned around, shaking like a leaf.

Riza stared at him, an eyebrow quirked questioningly. What are you doing, you moron, her face seemed to ask.

"Nothing," he told her. Her gaze deepened. "I was looking for something to read," he amended.

"Of course," she said. "Just don't be too loud." And then she went back to reading.

His teacher's daughter, Roy decided, was a strange, strange child.

* * *

"Oi," he said softly, an attempt to catch her attention.

She tilted her head slightly, to show that she was listening.

"O Child-sama," Roy smiled cheerfully.

She twitched almost imperceptibly, but he was waiting for it.

His grin spread wider as he continued, "was it you who has been reading romance novels here?"

She didn't look up, her gaze sharpening on the book in an attempt to ignore him. He smiled.

It was nice to know, that despite all her quirks, Riza Hawkeye was still a girl.


	14. 049 Cold Hands

Okay. So, I couldn't resist this one. Roy and Riza were just that _awesome _in chaps 93 and 94. I felt so happy. Those months of getting annoyed since they weren't there was almost worth it. That's why it's one of the longest chapters to date. And that's pretty much why I'm updating so soon.

... Did you know, at first, this was about a fifth of its size.

* * *

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 049

**Cold hands**

This is the fight that Roy had been dreaming of. The chance to avenge Brigadier General Maes Hughes. He'd been preparing for this for a long time.

I've been preparing for this, too.

My hands are cold. Nothing could really make one ready for a situation like this. My gun and its bullets seem to be of no use here, but I can try. Envy, at least, I know, could be shot; but its effects are mostly insignificant. He would feel pain, but he could still function. It would take more than my bullets to stop him.

I grip the gun in my hands tighter, never mind that my hands are all but numb. They feel like they should be stiff, and my body wants to do nothing more than to just to stop holding the gun and let it clatter to the ground.

I force myself to stay still, ready. I hold the gun steady, because somewhere inside me, I know that I want to know what happens next, and I don't want to be caught unprepared, without a fight.

Finger on the trigger. My hands do not shake.

Aim straight, forward. Firm.

Do not yield.

Eyes forward, keep eyes on the enemy.

This is like an old film replaying. Back then, my hands were cold, too. But I still shot.

I still shot, because my hands were already stained red with blood, because the man I killed had hands stained with blood.

I shot because I was saving someone, saving someone precious.

* * *

I followed him. He told me not to, but he never took our wills from any of us.

He disobeyed cold logic, too, when he thought we were in danger. That's why… we, his subordinates, would do anything for him. We would live and die for him, and he would live and die for us.

I heard footsteps. Crouching low in a corner, I ready myself as the footstep get louder, louder. I point the gun, threatening, ready. Kill or be killed. We'd lived by that rule at times. We didn't really like it, but we lived with it. The glove is a few inches, painfully near to me, fingers poised to snap. My eyes widen in surprise, he looks grim.

He withdraws, and so do I.

I follow him at his heels, as usual, but something feels different.

"I told you not to follow me, Lieutenant." He was irritated, annoyed, I could tell. I didn't care. It's a simple thing to ask forgiveness, and regret is a far more painful thing to live with.

"Forgive me, sir. I simply couldn't stand around and do nothing," I speak. My hands were still cold. I don't think they could be any colder. "Where is Envy?"

"I lost him. Ugh, this place is a damn maze!" He's suitably displeased. "Stay close to me, Lieutenant. Come on." I smile, because Envy has shown himself to be a master of disguise.

Almost triumphantly, I point the gun to his head. "What's the meaning of this, Lieutenant? Who do you think you're aiming at?"

"Excuse me?" An almost cynical smirk twists my lips. "You're joking, right? When we're alone, the Colonel always calls me 'Riza'."

He turns around quickly, falling for the bait, and he begins to morph into another face. "Shit," he says. "You two are togethe--"

"Just kidding," I say coldly, as I pull the trigger and a bullet goes through his skull.

"Crap," he says, and now he wears his old face.

"Well, thanks for falling for it." I say, shooting steadily. I feel the recoil. I feel like my blood is finally warming. This homunculus killed Hughes. This is the homunculus who left a woman a widow and an innocent child fatherless. "Now do me another favor and die," I continue, grabbing two more guns from their holsters and shooting, barely a heartbeat apart.

No time for reloading now. No turning back.

"That... HURT!" he says, and his arm shoots out and grazes my shoulder. The strap that slings the rifle to my shoulder snaps, and I catch it, bringing it around to shoot at him. Over and over, were he human, he'd have more holes than Swiss cheese.

He braces himself by support himself, and the floor moves. In a few heartbeats, he has the advantage. The next few moments were a blur to me – I couldn't breathe. The next thing I knew, the wall exploded and Envy was on fire. A snap of fingers, and he is incinerated. I try to stand as Envy groans, and Roy strides forward, his face a mask.

"That's one of my dearest subordinates you're attacking." Envy looks terrified.

He turns to me, and he just looks tired. "No more recklessness, Lieutenant. I told you, I'll kill him myself."

His gaze darkens, and Envy looks half-terrified and half-angry. "GODDAMN HUMAN! DON'T YOU DARE LOOK D--"

A snap, that's all it took for him to keep quiet. Roy's anger is ruling him. His anger would consume him and his soul.

"...on... us..." Envy manages, before he escapes his body, pitiful and useless. "Damn... damn it! Not AGAIN!"

Roy's foot crushes it. He's angry. He has his reasons to be, but this "This is your real form? How ugly. I understand why you were called 'Envy'. Envy is truly an ugly emotion."

"No... don't! Stop!"

Roy's gave turns murderous, dangerous, and he prepares to end it once and for all. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT ENVY."

"I don't wanna die! No! _NOOOOOOO_!"

Roy stops, because he hears the metallic sound of the gun I point at his head. It hurt, my body, but I can't let him do this.

My hands are very cold, colder than they ever were. I was mistaken earlier. Now, my blood feels like ice, frozen solid.

The hand holding the gun felt like it was made of lead.

"What is the meaning of this, Lieutenant?" His voice is tight, his patience short.

"That's enough Colonel. I'll clean this up." I speak calmly, flatly. Rage will consume reason, and that's something that must not happen.

"He's one flame from being gone forever. I don't need nor want your help." He was so stubborn sometimes. "Lower your gun."

"I'm afraid I can't do that sir. Please, open your hand." He must not do this. He shouldn't.

"NO GODDAMN YOU!" He is truly angry at me, but I don't care. It's a simple thing to apologize later, and this is one thing I would definitely regret. "NOW DROP YOUR GUN!"

The blue sparks of alchemy race through the floor, and Edward is here, stopping Roy from making a grievous mistake.


	15. 069 Are You Satisfied?

The long awaited (or not) chapter involving Riza, a frog, and Roy's bed. Enough said.

Reposted: Thank you very much to Goddess-Training who pointed out that I uploaded the wrong chapter. I'm so sorry...

* * *

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 069

**Are you satisfied?**

He glared at the younger girl in front of him she smiled back impudently, unrepentant. He was in her room, and it wasn't the most proper thing to do, but he was pissed.

"Are you satisfied?"

"Satisfied?" she asked quizzically, and he decided to try a different approach.

"Why did you do it?" he asked.

"Do what?" she asked innocently. Roy decided she had to be pure evil to pull of that look when she was very obviously guilty.

"Put the frog on my bed, Miss Hawkeye," he retorted, emphasizing the last two words.

"Oh." She looked up thoughtfully. "Did I?"

He could have sworn a vein popped in his head. "Of course you did!" he barked angrily.

"Ah," she said, and he thought that she was having a bit too much fun with this.

A lot too much, actually.

"Would you care to explain?" he asked once more, patronizingly.

"I thought that if you kissed a frog, it would turn into a princess."

The vein on his forehead throbbed so much he thought it would burst. "Why did you think that?"

"Well," the girl responded impishly, "you seemed to think that when you were kissing the girl who lives across the street."

His eyes widened with something like horror. "You saw?"

She batted her eyelashes at him mockingly. "'Oh, Roy...'" she started throatily, drawing out the syllables and keeping her voice pitched low.

Roy blanched.

"'Thank you so much for taking me out tonight, and for walking me all the way home,'" she grinned suddenly, before adding in a stage whisper. "Even though you actually live across the street."

Roy twitched. Was she stalking him? Waiting for him outside?

She continued, "'and I really did enjoy myself today, Roy, I hope we can do this again some time.'" Riza's eyes narrowed, before speaking in her normal voice, her tone disinterested and authoritative. "Then she went and cocked her head to the side. You kissed her for a long, looong time. Then I got bored."

"You're kidding," he managed in disbelief.

"Oh," Riza rolled her eyes. "I thought it would be kinder for you to think that. Well, I did see what happened after you finally stopped. You were all..." she trailed off, seeming to compose herself. She drew herself up her full height and deepened her voice. "'Angela,'" she started, grabbing a pillow and plopping onto her bed. She ran a hand through her short hair. "'It was a pleasure to be with you this evening and I--'"

"Alright, alright." Roy snapped. "I understand. Just stop."

She giggled. Not flirtily, as the other girls did, but she drew herself up to her fourteen year old self and grinned. "I thought you'd tell me to stop much sooner than that."

He sighed heavily. "Why would those events lead to the frog?"

She blinked innocently. "No particular reason."

"What?"

"Well, you know that story about fairy tales and the frog prince?"

"Yes."

"I thought it would be amusing to see your reaction. The frog is female." She stared at him straight in the eye. "I checked."

Roy decided never ever to attempt hiding anything from his teacher's daughter.

And that if she wanted to go the the village shops, by all means take her. Even if it is with your soon-to-be hopeful girlfriend.

He also learned that Riza could read lips and body signals well and that she would make a truly terrifying enemy.


	16. 066 The pounding of a heart

While I was away, I found the obsession to read the latest chapter. I loved it. For sure.

And I love my last line. Just so you guys know.

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 066

**The pounding of a heart**

* * *

You were a woman who lived in the shadows, unlike those pretty butterflies of women who perpetually hung off Roy's arm.

They thrived in the light, you think, a little bitterly. It was alright, though. You were comfortable in the dark. As a soldier, it was best to be seen only when necessary.

You take a deep breath, vainly trying to grasp your usual control. It stays out of reach, and you whimper softly, your heart pounding erratically.

You were so -weak-. So terribly weak... you grimace. Roy needed strong people to help him.

You were a woman who lived in the shadows, and now, you were -scared- of those same shadows. You were pathetic, a lowly--

The phone ringing catches your attetion, derailing your train of thought. You pick the reciever with trembling fingers, and spoke softly, hoping the person at the other end of the line wouldn't notice your voice shaking.

It was Roy, and he noticed. Perhaps it was because he knew you so well, but maybe it was because he genuinely cared for his subordinates.

Or, a tiny treacherous voice in your head whispers, insidious and too hoping, maybe it was because he genuinely cared for you.

You quash the traitorous thought to the recesses of your mind. It was unnecessary, you thought. You didn't need those useless thoughts. He didn't need you having those useless thoughts.

He bothered to try lightening the mood, even. You snapped at him though. It wasn't the kind of things that could be banished by a mere joke.

You'd replied flatly that you couldn't take some flowers from him, didn't have any vases; more proof of how much you didn't have. You had little more than what was necessary in your apartment. It was a small apartment, mostly filled with unpacked boxes.

You didn't settle in.

You didn't want to.

Your rapidly thumping heart slowed though, and you breathed easier. You felt safe hearing his voice. You remembered once upon a time, when he informed you how fast your heart beat.

* * *

"Relax," he told her as he showed her how to shoot a gun. "I can hear your heart beating. It's not so hard, and maybe you'll never kill anyone."

The irony of those words would strike her in the future. He was wrong. She killed so so many...

Her heart pounded, beating quickly, like a jackhammer. Her finger tightened on the trigger.

Aim.

Fire.

Bull's eye.

* * *

Aim. Steady your trembling fingers.

Ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump.

Ignore the loud, painfully audible pounding of your heart. Ignore that your hands will still someone else's heart.

Fire.

* * *

Time passes, and now, even though you're finally, finally with Roy again, near him, close enough to touch him, you are scared and your heart pounds worse than it ever had before.

Now, you have to stop Roy, because he is special and he has to heal a nation and hold it together for better or for worse, no matter what, because Roy is special in his ideals and ambitions.

He can't help a nation, he can't help anyone if he succumbs to his anger and regret and feelings of vengeance.

So now you point a gun at him, the same one you protected him with, because he is straying from the path both of you know he must take.

He had told you that he was appointing you to guard his back, and that it enabled you to shoot him if worst came to worst. You hoped it would never come to that, partly because you knew he'd not die without you. And partly because... you don't really know what to do. You do know, he'd want to die alone, and let you live.

That's one of the few orders you can never respect. You tell him so, when he dares you to shoot him, because it is the truth.

You'd never be able to live with creating such a monster consumed with rage. You'd live for him, die for him, and die with him.

Your heart pounds, and your aim trembles, but you do your best to hold your gun steady, because this is not Envy taking Roy's guise. This is Wrath painfully grasping Roy's soul.

And when the exchange is over and Roy is tired, slumped on the ground, and Envy is desperately trying to ignite hatred and frantic that nothing is holding anyone's anger, just sad regret, you just look pityingly at him-it and know that those lives you took are in the past and that Miss Winry Rockbell knows, at least the heart, of your story.

There is someone you must protect. There is a person whose goals you must help accomplish. That person is still there, and while your task isn't yet fulfilled, you can never truly rest.

You will pull the trigger, feel the heavy weight of metal and cold steel on your hands, on the holsters on your hips, on your back. You will feel the weight of each individual gun part you take apart and put together.

Your heart may quicken or slow, may skip a beat or beat thrice the normal rate, but your heart will keep beating, keep pounding, with that promise running through your veins.


	17. 036 Dog

I loved writing this. For the EdWin's 'Dog', I used Ed's POV. Today, I used Den's. Animal's minds are interesting to try. And they don't complain if you get their thoughts wrong.

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 036

**Dog**

**

* * *

  
**

I have a good mistress. She always feeds me, and she hasn't killed me yet.

There had been some near misses, sure, but nothing I haven't been able to handle.

I'm sure you're thinking that normal pets don't worry about being killed by their masters... but I'm a special case.

My mistress is Riza Hawkeye, renowned sniper in the military, one of the highest ranked females after Olivia Armstrong, and right hand of Roy Mustang.

Roy Mustang is known to me as the one who would feed me on occasion while digging his own grave in paperwork.

Humans are very strange.

Afterwards, when it's almost due, he'd scream and panic like a demented, headless chicken.

... I don't think a headless chicken would run around screaming, even if it was demented, but then again, human sayings are odd.

I am a dog, after all.

Human illogicality does not apply to me.

Nor does it need to make sense for me.

It's really that simple. Humans make it seem so complicated, but it's not.

Back to my mistress. And my mistress's potential mate.

Roy Mustang, in my humble and honest opinion, is an idiot. He is, however, an idealistic idiot. He does have his redeeming qualities in that he likes dogs.

Like me.

This opinion may be biased, as you humans would say, but it is my own.

Plus, he feeds me! That alone is enough of a reason to consider him an 'okay' guy.

He likes my mistress, I think. I don't know... he treats her a bit differently from everyone else.

Then again, everyone else happens to be idiots.

All of them.

I don't know how my mistress puts up with them all. I mean, sure they have their redeeming qualities -- the guy with glasses is nice. He feeds me too. And he found me my mistress.

I'm not too fond of the guy who wanted to eat me, though. Joke or not. I might have to -work- with him, but he's someone I have to watch. Mmhm.

I do my part helping them, of course, I -work- for a living.

I realize that my mistress wouldn't put up with nonsense for no reason. She's very earthbound for a human not putting up with absurd behavior.

I think she loves him, but don't let her hear me say that.

Shh... She's coming back now. I think she's all and well for a human, but humans are so very complicated in their relationships and courtship, don't you think?

The front door is closing and something is wrong. I don't know -what- exactly, something just is. My mistress is frightened. She's scared and she feels alone.

I think someone hurt her. Those -_damn_- homunculus things always try to, I know.

Roy Mustang hasn't come by the apartment in such a long time now, I hardly ever see him. I don't see the other members of his unit, either. It's a pity; they were fun guys. Stupid, but fun.

My mistress is trembling and I hate to see her like this.

The phone rings and I think that my mistress is brave to pick up the phone even through she's so frightened. As she talks with the person on the other end, she seems to relax slightly. It must be Roy Mustang.

It's simple moments like this where I think -- why aren't they together-together?

It's obvious that they both care, but then, as I have mentioned repeatedly, I think humans make things so much more complicated than they have to be, don't you think so?


	18. 045 Awakening

LAST EDITED: 12/24/09

Reason: Change in ages for proper storyline.

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 045

**Awakening**

And when she woke up that morning, he was gone.

She was a child. A tiny frame. Probably only fourteen, maybe fifteen years of age, and she didn't quite know the world as well as she pretended. He was a bit older, maybe eighteen or so. He was her father's student, and he was a soldier.

* * *

She should have known, known that Roy Mustang was not what he seemed. At first glance, he was not unattractive, and he dated many women as her father's student. Her father's student.

But he could be like this, clinical and detached from the world of women he seemed immersed in.

Riza felt embarrassingly exposed, young and vulnerable as she sat as still as she could, covering herself as much as she could with her hands and a worn shirt on her front. Roy needed to see all of her back.

"Are you alright?" he asked her, not unkindly, and she felt tears beginning to well up in her eyes because her father was dead and Roy is going to do great things with her father's knowledge and she could only watch.

"I'm fine," she said calmly, in a flat voice detached from her body. "I'm fine. Don't worry."

Roy could be patient, for all that he was a man, she thought. She knew that an alchemist's notes were coded so deep that it took excessive patience and knowledge and determination. Roy had plenty of those things.

Her father... he was a good alchemist, she supposed. Her own mother had died when she was young, and she didn't remember her. What she looked like. What she was like. Her father sometimes took apprentices, men and boys who thought they could reap the knowledge of an old man's research, they never lasted. Most were all talk and no brains, or had no technical skill, or possessed no willpower, drive, and determination.

They didn't last a year.

Roy was a student the longest, and he left. He joined the military, was a soldier. He was about eighteen when he joined the academy. He made friends, with his charisma and attitude. Riza was not surprised.

Still, he kept his dreams. She remembered, when he first became her father's apprentice, she remembered the light in his eyes.

She trusted that dream, that was why she shivered in the overbearing cold of the room trying to stay still. She trusted him, the person who she'd occasionally teased, back when she'd had her hopes.

She still did have hopes; they were more defined than ever. It was just, now, she felt them further than they were before. It felt like she was doing something wrong.

* * *

"Mr. Mustang. That dream... can I entrust my back to it? Is it all right to believe in a future where everyone can live in happiness?"

She'd been a fool, to be so naïve. She trembled a little as she stood before of her father's grave. Roy had left.

She felt like she'd awoken to cold water splashed on her face. She was the daughter of an alchemist. Equivalent Exchange.

A fool would believe in free miracles. She would make things happen with her own hands. It was likely Roy didn't have many allies.

She'd make things happen. She could do it.

* * *

When they met again, face to face, she just turned seventeen, a few days into the start of the Ishbal Massacre.

She hadn't contacted him beforehand.

Deep down, Roy hadn't expected her to.


	19. 004 Grave

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 004

**Grave**

And once again, you stood before a grave. Though this person meant much to both of you, this person meant more to Roy. It was his turn to stand before someone important, you think a little sadly.

It was their roles reversed from all those years ago, when they both laid her father's body to rest.

* * *

Roy Mustang and Riza Hawkeye had visited many graves since they had met.

The first was her father's grave.

She remembered how the wind was strong back then. Cold. Bitter.

Second was that of the nameless Ishbalan child.

It was a pity, a life lost so young because of a preventable death. War.

The third grave was a simple whim.

They'd stood before the Elric brothers' mother's grave, and Roy was solemn. They had lost a mother. There was no equal grief that could befall two young boys.

Fourth grave was the one of Maes Hughes.

That death had been horrible, because he had not been old as Riza's father. He was not a stranger like the Ishbalan child and Trisha Elric. He had been someone Roy had trusted... someone who had inspired him so much.

It had been terrible because his death shook his very own family. A pretty young wife and an even younger daughter... His death shattered what may have been an idealistic life.

His death was murder, unjust because he had only discovered truth in the military, discovered a secret that would shake the very foundations of Amestris.

Roy swore to himself that he wouldn't ever be placed in that position ever again.

That's why he is always desperate to protect his subordinates, to protect the people he knows, and to protect the people in general.

An alchemist's duty was to the people.

Whether those people were alive or dead, it doesn't matter. What matters it that they were - they are people, and they are always, always worth something.

Those people in their graves deserve justice.

They deserve peace, at least.

They deserve peace at last.

-

You understood he needed this, understood that he wants closure. This is why he was a soldier. He had a noble ambition, an honorable dream.

You know neither of you are certain whose grave you'll stand before, or even if the grave will be yours.

But you know you'll be there with him, whatever the future holds.

You never consider yourself surviving his death. You were two different people, and you haven't actually formally dated, but then you couldn't separate yourself from him, even if you wanted to.

You've seen too much to let it end that way, for some reason. You value life, but you value that he is the reason you're here.

If he dies, then all your killing will be for nothing, and there would be no reason to continue.


	20. 075 Why

RoyAi leads by one since I don't want this file to unexpectedly go poof. It almost did, and I was lucky I stashed it somewhere. I'm rather busy because of my Digimon fic (deadlines) and school, but I haven't abandoned RoyAi and EdWin.

This was originally written for a character sketch for school. I delayed posting it lest I be accused of plagiarizing myself. O.O It would've been weird. Funny, though.

I gave teacher zero background info (thus no names), so I hope it makes sense for anyone who's never read the manga... but here it is now, for the fans of the RoyAi fandom, edited (with Hughes's name mentioned, because using comrade eem). ^.^

-

075

**Why?**

Once, I dreamed of being a hero. I dreamed of helping others, doing great things, and always protecting the weak. It was why I joined the military even if I hated to kill. It was idealistic and naïve, but I was younger back then. I had believed in a beautiful future.

So why am I killing so many defenseless civilians? They were weak, innocents. So many people… Young and old alike, dark-skinned and dark-eyed, desperate and fighting to the death because we killed their children, killed their people, and spilled their blood. Corpses litter the battlefield, blue-uniformed and loose-robed figures alike, and I felt sick to see how much dead there were. What joy was there in this? Why did this war even begin? Why did we have to go to the field just to kill people who want to live? They were human! They were simply trying to run away!

...However, even if a soldier has this type of thoughts, he must still simply follow orders and be loyal, following superiors, never wavering, and serving the People. It's ironic that soldiers have a horrible reputation among those they are said to protect, but a soldier's life is far from a glorious one.

I feel icy cold numbness seeping into my bones. How many have I killed today?

Yesterday?

The weeks before?

How many more will I kill before this so-called war is over?

How many families will I have destroyed, parents weeping over children's corpses or children sobbing over their parents' cold bodies? I don't know. I simply don't. The very thought of it makes me feel ill. My hands are stained with blood as surely as they are covered in dirt and grime. I've changed from the young boy who could dream of a better world, a beautiful one. My eyes are used to seeing not beauty, but death.

A killer's eyes.

My comrade and I were almost killed by one of them today. That man's face was twisted with despair; he was wounded and certain to die, yet he lunged at me with such ferocity that made my heart clench. This war isn't even really a real war now—it's a massacre. My dreams of helping others and protecting the weak were shattered. I no longer have pleasant dreams when I sleep. I dream of death. It is… not pleasant.

That man died because somebody shot him, a sniper from atop an abandoned building. That soldier killed someone so far away that the man didn't even see the one who brought about his death. I wonder if the soldier felt a sense of accomplishment of hitting the target—it was a far-away, moving target, a clean kill and he used only one bullet. Hughes says that that person was a cadet pulled out of the military academy to serve in the field, and as we walk into the camp, I can't help but wonder where the person who certainly saved my life was. To save my life, he had ended another. He was a just a student, too. Why do we men commit such atrocities? What is this war, this so-called campaign, doing to us? What value is there in what we were doing? What _honor_?

His was a small figure, hooded in the brown cloak that was standard issue in this desert region. It dwarfed him. When he stood and turned around, the hood fell from his face. I stared—I couldn't help it.

I knew this person.

This soldier, that sniper, was a _she._

"It's been a while." Soft blonde hair was cut short; her garnet eyes looked haunted by silent grief and exhaustion.

Even so, those eyes were sharp, cold. Like a killer's. Like my own. Her rifle was nearby, at her feet even though she was ready to sit down for dinner. She was still speaking, but lost in thought as I was, the only thing I heard was a question to me.

"Have you begun to remember?" Her voice was as soft as ash, yet somehow brittle. I felt sympathy for her. She was my late teacher's daughter. Now she is an orphan, alone in the world. A solemn and perspicacious girl, only a few years younger than myself… What was she doing here? She should be somewhere else, anywhere else.

How terrible it is that even this girl I once knew, who was neither cruel nor merciless, would be so changed in the war. She was looked like a stranger.  
"…How could I forget?" I say emphatically after a pause. I said it empathically because it was true.

How could I forget?

I look into the haunted eyes of a young, promising _human_ in her late teens who was killing people. Committing terrible sins.

This war doesn't just take the lives of those it kills; it takes even the souls of the ones who participate in it as well.


	21. 015 The Scent of Blood

RoyAi leads by TWO since I was seriously touched by the latest chapter and felt that I needed to get this through despite all my deadlines. ALL OF THEM. I'm dead.

And yes, this is a bit rushed but I tried.

* * *

**015**

**The scent of blood**

When a soldier dies, most often he knows exactly what is happening to him. Is he being tortured or is he being granted a quick, merciful death? Especially if that soldier has been in war.

In war, the scent of blood and corpses could choke you, make you feel sick and faint, but a soldier faced it with grimness.

Her hair was a soft golden blonde that sometimes looked at odds with her grim face. It was probably as far as you can get from the image of bright red blood and the dirt and filth of a battlefield. Her skin was smooth, young, obviously that of a woman's even if the calluses on her hands were considered.

Her eyes were bright, once with innocence. Quite some time ago, but if they are bright now then it is because of unshed tears. Even that was rare. Usually she was businesslike, firm.

The Elric brothers made her worry sometimes, though. I know it. They were so young, and yet… so mature. They've had to grow up faster than they should. Like she did.

* * *

Even if we were in Central, there was still blood. I know she hates it. Hates how I end up in the hospital. Hates how the homunculi were so hard to kill and that she couldn't be any better help because her bullets were almost useless. To some extent, she hates how the homunculi can't bleed themselves, yet cause others to bleed. Of course, that only makes her work harder. Riza is like that. My first lieutenant.

She works harder and pushes herself because of that, and though she isn't an alchemist, I think she understands Equivalent Exchange clearly.

* * *

I also don't like the smell of blood. It feels wrong to smell what keeps people alive out in the open—it means someone died. It means death and I couldn't stop it.

Especially not when it's the blood of the people who believed in me, my precious subordinates. But somehow it's worse when it's her blood that scents the air.

Like now.

Well, her getting injured was something I obviously didn't like, but I accepted the possibility of it happening. But now… Now I couldn't protect her at all. Couldn't move. They ripped my glove and made sure I couldn't use the other one. And they wanted me to open the Gate.

I was sick of loss. Sick and tired of it. Hughes' death made me almost lose sight of my goal, and almost caused my death and hers. I wouldn't have cares so much of my death if it didn't also mean hers. That's… who she is. Simply put. She was that sacrificial.

And she is with me now. I am sane and she is alive even if neither of us could move to help the other.

Her hair was down—it came away at the fight with Envy. Now her hair is down and one of the things that failed to be homunculi was cutting her because I refused.

She didn't even get the time to scream.

Bright scarlet spurts out and even as I scream, desperately, that so-called Doctor is already talking. He was talking before and I was paying attention but somehow I don't recall it much anymore. It all paled in comparison to what was happening now.

"LIEUTENANT!" I bellow, and even as the words escape my lips, I remember her father dying and me calling out her name. _'RIZA!'_

Her golden hair spattered with red, blood dripping on her skin, her face, her clothes.

I could feel anger, blazing and scorching and hot and _penetrating_. Fire in my blood, in my bones, in my soul. Flames and burning and death.

"Now…"

Her eyes were wide in shock even as she fell forward. The scent of blood was acrid, I could smell it and _nonother_, it couldn't be her fallingfallingfalling...

His voice was soft but his eyes were insane.

Not her. Of all people, not her. The blood...

"Open the gate, Mustang."

… I couldn't help but feel tempted.


	22. 093 Shackles

Unfortunately, however much I squee over 101, I can't write about it yet. Maybe by Christmas break, but now I'm kind of full in terms of schedule. This (and other works that may be published between now and that time, would be written on a cellphone in my free time. 101, I swear, will be written on the computer with me checking the actual chapter out for reference. AND there'll be a 102 then, right?

* * *

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 093

**Shackles**

The military was like shackles around their limbs and necks. They were restricting bonds that weighed their shoulders down and made every single step they took so much more difficult.

The bonds that tied him to her and her to him were like those, too. Shackles that burdened them and slowed them down, but restrictions that made them all the stronger for it.

So much the stronger because they didn't fight them; instead, they simply bore the burden, one supporting the other, and both wanting to be stronger so as to protect the other.

* * *

"The military..."

"Sir?"

"When you join it, it will never completely let you go. You leave a part of your soul with it."

"Yes, sir."

"You can't escape it, not until you die. And even then it haunts you."

"Yes, sir."

"Even if you leave, and they don't hound you, it leaves its mark and everyone knows and you can never ever escape what they think."

"Yes, sir."

"They may condemn you for the lives you've taken, or they may hail you for saving their lives. Your uniform marks you, protects you and prejudices you."

"I know. Sir."

"And yet?"

"... My decision will not change, sir." Not now, not ever. _This is my path. The path I've taken._

"Then, I've got nothing else to say."

"Yessir," she saluted, and turned and left.

* * *

"Lieutenant."

"Colonel."

"Your day off..."

"...Is scheduled tomorrow. Sir."

"Oh, is that so."

"Yes, sir."

"Alright then."

She wasn't the one who came up with their code, but she was very proficient in it. She worked around her shackles as well as he did, and at times, their shackles seemed almost nonexistent.

* * *

"What happened to last week's girl, Sir?"

He looked blankly at the smirking man. He wasn't a trusted subordinate, and he saw how Roy had slammed the phone and went outside back then.

Shit.

This was to be expected. In addition to his abrupt leaving, Roy had ended up in the hospital, burned by his own flames and one subordinate lost.

"... She had an emergency," he told the man smoothly.

"Emergency, huh?" He paused. "How'd you end up burned?"

"..."

"Sir, a letter for you," Riza interrupted, handing him a sealed envelope, his name scrawled in a flowery, elegant hand.

Roy shot her a grateful look as he opened it in front of the subordinate.

"Oh," he said, a smile spreading on his face as he looked at the blank sheet of paper. He quickly hid it from view, but carefully, tenderly. Something he cherished, he thought, projecting the impression mentally to the other man's brain in hopes that it would work. "If you'll excuse me, soldier, I need to send Elizabeth a reply."

* * *

Two words stood stark against the white paper.

_Thank you._

Riza folded the message into two and slipped it in her pocket.

* * *

_Don't get yourself confused! Never stop thinking! Never give up the will to live! If you're a soldier, if you're my aide, be more firm than this._

A soldier. A soldier was one who fought. There was a collar around their necks and they were shackled and they _couldn't_ escape.

But they _could_ work around the burdens they were given. What they were doing may not be so such a great feat, but it worked and they worked.

This, like most things, was enough.


	23. 082 Words that Fade Away in the Chaos

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 082

**Words that Fade Away in the Chaos**

And softly, because that is how words fade away, they said farewell.

The war was ended, and Roy just wanted to sleep a very long time and never wake up.

"Sir?" A soft voice jerked him into consciousness.

"Ah. It's you."

"Yessir." Riza paused, a small half-smile on her lips that was somehow automatic and somehow haunted. "I'm leaving soon. Sir." The war is over.

"Turning civilian, Miss Hawkeye?"

She didn't look him in the eye. "No. I'm not." The words almost faded away in the chaos, and she was half-afraid he wouldn't hear. Even so, she turned away before he could respond.

She was so -_strong_-, he thought. How old was she now? Probably just nineteen or so. Too young, simply too young to live in this bloody world.

She was supposed to have a promising future.

* * *

Seventeen? She didn't feel her age.

She'd felt like she was either ten or forty, either too young or too old for her world.

It was _her world_ now; not the world of murderers, of the dogs, of those who follow blindly, of crimson blood and false honor and shiny badges that meant nothing in real life after the dazzling was over._ Hers._

It didn't matter, her choice was made. It was made long ago.

* * *

"So you went through all that in Ishbal, but in the end you chose this path."

"Yes. I chose it myself, and put my arms through the sleeves of the uniform of my own will," she spoke firmly, confidently. A devoted person. Dedicated. They were words reminiscent of the chaos

The chaos then was Kimbley, his words that of a madman belonging in a madhouse.

'When you wore this of your own will, weren't you already prepared? If you don't like it, you shouldn't have worn it in the first place. You moved forward onto this path on your own, why are you playing the victim now? If you're going to take pity on yourself, don't kill people in the first place.'

Now, her decision was made. Riza Hawkeye rose above the chaos swirling in Roy's heart. 'This person shouldn't be here' was overwhelmed by a sense of peace and comfort that she -was- there.

There for him, and there with him.


	24. 003 Battlefield

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 003

**Battlefield**

She was so slight compared to the men's larger, leaner, harder frames, and when he saw her on the battlefield, his first thought about her had been how sad it was that even this young girl's eyes had become sharp, like that of a killer's.

He thought that her, at least, should no longer have such a painful life. That was what her life was, after all. Painful, harsh.

He wanted this war over. Finished. Nothing would ever, ever be the same. Not after all this.

But maybe they could go back home to warm beds and dream of silent, smothering death.

* * *

His second, when she stood in line beside one of the more beefy soldiers in camp, was that she shouldn't have gone here, shouldn't have followed him to this bloody place.

She didn't really belong here.

She belonged somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Maybe a nunnery.

He wasn't at all religious, but if it would mean she would be far away from this war, then it was good.

Because there was something infinitely fragile about Riza Hawkeye, even if he'd witnessed close up exactly how she was capable of blowing someone's brains out.

* * *

His third thought, when he watched her shoot another man --well, he didn't see her exactly, she was a little too far away, though he was positive she could see him perfectly-- was that how she could do this without breaking.

After all, though he knew she was strong when he spent time at her father's house as his student, he wasn't aware how much she was capable of shouldering.

She was strong, taking care of a father absorbed with alchemy alone. Her father was somehow distant, perpetually forgetting to take meals in favor of his research. But she coped, and she managed to do what she needed to.

She'll cope now, too, if for no other reason than 'she has to'.

* * *

His nth thought -_he had actually lost count_- was that she really looked like she needed a hug. A simple hug, maybe, and she could be the young girl she was for a little while.

This was the battlefield. The weak almost always did not survive.

She did. She was strong.

He did. He had to.

For the young girl with the bloodstained hands.


	25. 070 Giddiness

I was doing something else, but I REALLY COULDN'T RESIST THIS CHAPTER~

And I was working on the other one for like a week and this flowed out so fast compared to it… o.o

ONE FOURTH OF THE ROYAI THEMES IS DONE~!

Spoilers: This chapter contains spoilers for chapter 106. Many thanks to Oceanee for pointing it out. Late apologies are late. Sorry. As I've replied to her, I totally forgot because I was kind of... rushed when I first posted it.

... And as I've taken the liberty of editing this, I figured I may as well edit the text.

* * *

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 070

**Giddiness**

There was something about the atmosphere that rang with importance. The Promised Day. The day of the solar eclipse.

The day they put all their hard work of several years—their military careers—on the line. The day she was going to turn traitor to the military, to her rank and bars and stars.

The day she really might go to hell with Roy Mustang.

Somehow she felt somehow dizzy—giddy, as it were, with anticipation. She felt it from the moment she strapped her guns on that day. It was the beginning of an end of sorts.

She never really needed all she had lost by putting down the bright blue of the uniform. She never did—all she had joined the military for was for Roy's and hers dream to take form, these thoughts and many others came to her at a dizzying rush as Roy had entered the room and said they could turn back.

Stupid.

As if they would.

So she followed him, shooting, harming, hurting people with her comrades for their goal— but not killing. No more killing. No more deaths. Let the blue-clad side be stained with blood upon blood of the fallen foe in the name of their so-called justice. That so-called justice was a joke, a farce to feed the people as a reason for bloodshed. Because there was no true justice in it, only deaths and more deaths.

* * *

He was going to be her first kill for the day, though once upon a time she would have killed many more by this time of day. And more to go before she slept, but that was once upon a time and a time she would rather forget but couldn't.

He was going to be her second to the last kill for forever, she thought, and the adrenaline she felt as she thought those things almost made her stagger with dizziness.

Forever was such a final word.

It was a relief to be free of it, she thought as he collapsed to the floor. At least for a little while.

* * *

If she was going to die, at least he would live. She felt her blood through her fingers and it was strange how it didn't really matter to her. At least he should live.

So she glared at him through the pain, and some part of her felt giddy that if she were to die, at least he was there. 'I'll kill you if you do it,' and 'I know you care. You won't abandon me, abandon your people. Don't try to prove it by performing human transmutation. It's enough. Thank you.' She sent out her message like a prayer, and she felt it reach him, binding him. "… I get it," he says.

And she felt better for it, for all that she wouldn't live to see the day after the Promised Day.

* * *

If she was dead, she thought it didn't much feel like it. She felt slightly dizzy and very weak, but she felt so warm… warm in someone's embrace. It was… the Colonel. He was fine, she thought. At least that. And he breathed in her hair and apologized and thanked her in the same sentence. He was alright.

And for a breathtaking dizzying moment, she realized she was alive. And she reveled in it.

So weakly, because she couldn't muster up the energy at the moment, she couldn't help but try to smile because he followed her plea. When he verbalized it in the way she certainly might have said it if it were a normal day at the office, she succeeded in smiling.

* * *

He was gone, but he had other things to do. She tried to comfort herself in that, but did she have to be so damned weak?

When the Armstrongs and other soldiers burst in, she couldn't help but continue to think that, trying to remember that sickening moment where they all died and the rush when they were all brought back. And she could do nothing. In a moment her soul could be ripped from her and there was nothing she could do.

She cursed her own helplessness.

When people were going up, to continue the battle, she was neither here nor there, nowhere useful.

When they dropped Roy off, he was blind. And she couldn't really do anything, could she? Useless. Useless. A useless girl who couldn't do anything when it mattered.

"Lieutenant..." he called for her, she felt a feeling she couldn't yet identify bubble up in her, warming her.. "How badly were you hurt?"

_Stupid,_ she wanted to say. _Idiot. You have more pressing problems and I can take care of myself. Stop babying me, damnit. I followed you here, to the military and your blood-stained life. I bled. I killed. I did all of that, and I can take responsibility of myself._

"Not again, you need to worry about YOURSELF! Your eyes—" and there was more she wanted to say, but he cut her off.

"LIEUTENANT."

She froze.

"Can you still fight?"

And despite the blankness of his eyes, the absence of light, she felt that he was staring right at her.

The feeling bubbled up to overflowing, and she felt giddiness take her once again.

He trusted her. Weak, she may be. Perhaps useless... But there was still something she could do, so he asks her now.

"Yes, sir!"

And unbidden, the words came to her head again. _'Understood. If that is your wish, then even into hell.'_


	26. 030 Conversation

For my birthday, I did my best to update both Memories and Moments in Time. Reviews would make me happy. Thanks~

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 030

**Conversation**

**

* * *

**

A conversation was one to be held by at least two people. While it was possible to talk to oneself, Roy was not inclined to make a habit of it. Nevertheless, a conversation was to be held by at least two people, and Roy... well...

That was not at all what Roy felt he was having as he called her rank, something he realized he's done for so long it was already a reflex. Somewhere subconsciously he remembered a time when he called her by the name her mother gave her. It felt almost foreign, but he knew it was not so long ago.

"LIEUTENANT!" he bellowed. "LIEUTENANT HANG IN THERE!"

"CAN YOU HEAR MY VOICE!? ANSWER ME! LIEUTENANT!" The carefully maintained facade of indifference and cool detachment was nothing in the air—it was blown away as it had been far too often lately.

Now he was desperate, horrified, and terrified—not for his own safety because he knew that

Answer, answer, answer, answer_answeranswer__**answeransweranswer**_... The word echoed in his skull, pounded into his brain, growing louder and louder, speeding up so that he could hardly make out the individual word as it repeated over and over.

He wasn't quite sure what he said afterwards, desperation and the red haze of rage were all he could remember, but if he said something he was certain it involved quite a bit of cursing.

"…Who do we transmute?" the doctor asked calmly, conducting a conversation all by himself. Roy was certain he was mad. "Family? A friend? A lover?"

Damn it, if he could just break free one moment. One moment with a free hand, the one with the intact glove.

"If this lady were to die, would you transmute her? That'd be fine, too."

"…I won't die," a calm, sure voice rasped, somehow reaching through the haze fogging his brain. "I've… been ordered not to die, you see."

Roy always knew Riza was an _angel_, her softly spoken words somehow clearing the red haze the so-called doctor's words created in him. "…What will it be, Mustang?" he asked, "Your precious woman is dying."

Such an interesting choice of words. Precious, so precious, indeed, that she had very literally become a part of his life, at least until Wrath had used it.

And even then, she was always, _always_ in his mind.

… And to Hell with the man who threatened her for the rest of Amestris. "If you leave her be, she'll just bleed to death. But…" and of course he goes on a spiel saying that he could save her if only he would perform human transmutation.

It was terribly cliché but it was a tried and true formula to get a reaction. Somehow, though, he still felt tempted to just do as he said. For the Lieutenant. For Riza.

"Oh? She's become quiet. I wonder if she's dead?" and Roy wanted to strangle the person who could cheerfully say that Riza Hawkeye, with her corn silk hair and garnet eyes, with her stubborn chin and marksman hands, was dead. Strangle, torture, kill. All so simple if he could just break free. Only a moment, a chance, and he would be by her side once more. If only.

"…Colonel…" Her voice was weak, but it was irrevocable proof that she was alive. "There's no need to do human transmutation."

"You'll do it, right? Mustang."

-

Left to right.

_No. Don't. Don't you dare_, Colonel_._

You're cruel, Lieutenant. Would you have done the same in my position?

And it all he could do to not scream in anguish for his ever loyal… what was she? Family? A friend? A lover?

Did she even fall in one of those categories? Could she?

Because Riza Hawkeye was so much more than simply a friend, she wasn't exactly a lover. She was so much closer than family. She was simply more than all of it.

So he turned away. "…I get it." Turned away because he could not understand why she would be so willing to do this. Or rather, he simply didn't want to understand her sacrifice. But he would—should—follow her will to the end. Whatever it took. Because it was, ultimately, for the dream they shared.

"Ooh, so you'll do it!" the man who did not understand their goal and who he dearly wanted to kill said brightly.

"I get it, Lieutenant," Roy said, infinite strength and pain making their way into his words, making them seem so heavy and final. "I won't do human transmutation."

There was something oddly satisfying, pleasurable, in watching the deranged 'doctor' drop his mouth.

"You're abandoning her?" he had the gall to ask. "How cruel of you," he continued, and Roy could say much the same of him, but with a thousand times, no, a million times more truth.

Stupid, _stupid _man.

'You're abandoning your humanity? Leaving tens of thousands of innocents to their grave? How cruel of you,' Roy wanted to say in return. But he kept it in and swallowed it in favor of other, better words. Better for the moment, focusing on what was in front of him. "Abandoning?" he said derisively. "I don't want to hear that from the bastard who just threw away all these presidential candidates like mere pawns."

* * *

Pain. Infinite, fiery, _raw_ pain as blood dripped onto the cold, unforgiving ground. Pain ablaze at her neck, making it so, so difficult to pretend nothing is wrong. It was that same pain, her pain, that almost led her Colonel to perform human transmutation.

She knew he shouldn't, so she made it clear he'd better not. He'd be a fool a thousand times over if he did. She knew he'd sacrifice for her, but it wasn't his personal sacrifice to make.

… and then he was by her side once more, cradling her as if she were a newborn. She felt like one, too. Weak. Defenseless.

"LIEUTENANT! GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF, LIEUTENANT!" And as she made little gasping noises that were a struggle for air, he wanted to scream away all the frustration that his alchemy couldn't help when it was important.

A 'This goes first!' and a 'Leave this to me' later, and she's better. Not well, exactly, but now she could work on it now, instead of impending death.

And she was now capable of conversation.

* * *

A conversation was one to be held by at least two people. Now that they were doing exactly that, after she was almost gone, he felt a startling, stunning relief he couldn't put into words if he tried.

"I'm sorry…" he said, his arms tight around her, and in the same breath, "Thank you."

"Colonel," she rasped, "I'm so…"

"Don't talk!" he scolded, loosening his grip to see her face. "Just rest!"

"My eye signal…you recognized it well." She fixed a garnet eye at him.

He mustered a smile, confident despite their situation. "We've been together a long time, after all."

A long time. Six years since Ishbal. How many years before even that? It didn't really matter, that period of time anymore.

"Besides, 'If you do human transmutation, I'll beat you to death.' That's what your stare was telling me, right?"

And she laughed, weakly, because that was all she was capable of right now. But she laughed because of everything and nothing, and somehow things would work out.

_Exactly_. Because that's what had to be done.


	27. 071 Premonition

So, once upon a time, this fanfiction was called 'Memories.' I changed it.

I've been thinking a long, long time on this. Memories is also one of the RoyAi prompts, so I thought, 'I definitely have to change the title eventually!' But I'm kind of fail when it comes to titles…

I'll copy and paste the explanation on the first chapter as well.

If you want to read through my rambling of how Not Quite Synchronicity became the title, here's what I spent the good part of an extremely hot afternoon on, reading things I could grasp but not really. There's a shorter version, which was the most coherent part that explained my point, below. I separated it for those who want to skip my waxing philosophical. Enjoy:

Summarized version:

**Synchronicity** is the experience of two or more events that are apparently causally unrelated occurring together in a meaningful manner. To count as synchronicity, the events should be unlikely to occur together by chance.

RoyAi isn't exactly 'causally unrelated,' because they exert influence over each other. Even so, I feel Synchronicity somewhat applies. They are meaningful, they are together (not in the way we'd like, yet, but there's hope). The difference is it's not fully coincidence, because they both strive for something, they work for something, and they ultimately make their future instead of waiting for fate to smash them together (though that isn't unwelcome either, is it?). It's not strictly 'Cause and Effect' because it's RoyAi. It's… well, 'Not Quite Synchronicity.'

Their meeting at Ishbal explains it best, I think. It's very literally not quite Synchronicity. I mean, it's not exactly that because he caused her presence there, somehow, so it's really not fully 'causally unrelated.' It would be a perfect example of Synchronicity if she hadn't known he was in the military. I mean, what are the chances of them randomly meeting in the middle of the battlefield? Of her saving his life the first time she saw him again? The thing is, though, that it's not quite Synchronicity because she knew he'd be there in the military, somewhere. Their meeting then was something she had thought of, probably, once. Not a planned encounter, but an anticipated one. In that case, it's not purely Synchronicity because his being in the military was causal to her joining it, but it's not like he knew, and she probably didn't expect to meet him so soon. See the beauty?

* * *

Ramble of the better part of an afternoon:

**Synchronicity** is the experience of two or more events that are apparently causally unrelated occurring together in a meaningful manner. To count as synchronicity, the events should be unlikely to occur together by chance.

… reading on deep Psych stuff I can't seem to fully appreciate, but I can try (I might butcher it, though), it seems that it's different from (but not contradictory to) causality, that is to say, cause and effect. Carl Gustav Jung coined the term, and described it as "acausal connecting principle", "meaningful coincidence" and "acausal parallelism".

Well, I feel that there's some causality involved (they're both too stubborn to be otherwise,) but I feel that there are moments of synchronicity (but not quite.) They do come together meaningfully, not exactly as 'cause and effect,' but also not exactly 'coincidentally.'

I mean, if it would be fully Synchronicity, then it would be like they were thrust together by fate. It's not like that to me. For me, their relationship is more than that, because they actively seek to support each other. But it's also not Cause and Effect strictly, because it would mean that… um, that would make me think Riza does what she does because of Roy, end of story. I feel their goal is further than that, deeper than that. It's not just, 'he did this, so she did that,' or 'she did this, so he did that.' I mean, I feel he does things for her and vice versa, but it's not always.

Cause and Effect seems, to me, to be purely scientific. Like B is fully dependent on A. Like the meaningfulness can be stripped away easily. It seems 'relativity and quantum mechanics have forced physicists to abandon these assumptions as exact statements of what happens at the most fundamental levels' (which explains why I'm not making much sense), 'but they remain valid at the level of human experience.' In which case, we can observe cause and effect happening, but it's definitely not RoyAi as that pairing is relative. -.- So they are not Cause and Effect. (Say what?)

There is meaningfulness, still. If their goals didn't overlap, surely she wouldn't have joined the military. They are _connected_, but it's not _all_ simply coincidence (because they do things for each other, because they work hard.) Did that make sense?

…But I feel personally that their remeeting at Ishbal explains it best. It's very literally not quite Synchronicity. I mean, it's not exactly that because he caused her presence there, somehow, so it's not fully 'causally unrelated.' It would be a perfect example of Synchronicity if she hadn't known he was in the military. I mean, what are the chances of them randomly meeting in the middle of the battlefield? Of her saving his life? The thing is, though, that it's not quite Synchronicity because she knew he'd be there in the military, somewhere. Their meeting then was something she had thought of, probably, once. Not a planned encounter, but an anticipated one. In that case, it's not purely Synchronicity because his being in the military was causal to her joining it, but it's not like he knew, and she probably didn't expect to meet him so soon. See the beauty?

Am I making sense? I don't think so.

… If someone understands philosophy more than me and knows a better, more fitting term for their relationship, please tell. If someone is displeased or does not see my logic, I welcome messages to work the concept out.

Thus, the not very imaginative title of 'Not Quite Synchronicity.' (It comes pretty close, though?) Because they make their future. I think I kind of like it.

Anyhow, even if it's not quite accurate, and I've been rambling for ages, I think I like this. Anyways, it's a title, right?

* * *

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 071

**Premonition**

I feel uneasy.

The routine is simple enough-- the Führer is a very efficient, thorough man. But even so, I can't bring myself to relax in the least, not in the same way I could let myself at the Colonel's side.

Making tea for him is an awkward thing as much as it isn't for Roy.

My rank is First Lieutenant-- it is an accomplishment, one could say, especially considering that I am female and have no military ties in my family. Or at least I haven't used the connections I possess and they are not ones to be easily seen, anyhow.

Major General Olivia Armstrong is, after all, an Armstrong. She's never hidden by it, but it does and doesn't speak of her in ways different from my own name.

I'd had no training whatsoever until I was about sixteen. I was sent to war at seventeen and have since been Colonel Roy Mustang's aide for the six years after that. My name Hawkeye suited me fine enough in all that time...

Helping him reach his goal a step at a time, at his side.

Until now.

* * *

The mirror in the bathroom broke almost as soon as I moved in.

_'The mirror crack'd from side to side.'_

It boded no good. Premonition, my mind whispered.

Ill omen.

I didn't unpack. Not much, anyways. The bare necessities, everything else tucked into boxes.

Like my own life.

* * *

The Führer is a cold, calculating man. Not surprising, since he is actually a homunculus.

Though he wears the mask of a man, he was a monster. I know this.

I also knew that the Führer had a family.

This family was so normal it was disturbing to couple with the Führer-is-a-homunculus idea. Cheerful wife, glowing with praises of her husband. Innocent little boy, absolutely devoted to his father.

Shame to know that the innocent little boy was probably more cunning than his so called 'father'. And that they called the same man 'Father'.

* * *

As I make myself a cup of tea in the apartment-- it wasn't 'home'. It didn't feel at all like one, just somewhere I lived in for a while-- I muse over everything that happened.

The cup cracked.

It was small at first, but as I watched it spread, spiderwebbing until the whole thing gave way, scalding tea flooding my numb fingers.

Bad omen.

I shoo Black Hayate lest he try to lap up the spilt tea and cut himself on the shattered porcelain. Scald himself on the still-hot tea, as well.

* * *

Would I die? I wonder as I strap on my equipment as Breda and Fuery do the same beside me. We're waiting for our Colonel. Our, of course because we have given him our absolute loyalty. We've separated for that, certainly, but we still held firm in our allegiance.

It wouldn't be surprising if I did, I finally decide as Roy arrives.

It is said that a soldier could never escape his kills after all, and I have certainly killed many in my time.

It didn't matter. One day to die is much like another. My life isn't as important as our leader's.

* * *

My hands are shaking but I train them on the man in front of me. Hate. Rage. Pain. Vengeance. Roiling emotions are clear on his face and on the very way he stands.

Was this what the premonition was for? I didn't think it would be this terrible.

... This wasn't what I wanted. No one dreams their loved ones to be lost and that they'd have to kill them. No one.

No one but the madmen.

* * *

I didn't really think I would die today.

It came too quickly-- I hardly felt the cut. All I saw was the horror on my Colonel's face.

But if this was what all my uneasiness was for, it is much better than I hoped.

Better this to me than him. Because there is a country that needs a man like him, not someone like me.

* * *

Is it all over? The presentiments and premonitions of this Promised Day? It's probably too much to ask for, but we feeble humans cannot last without hope, I most of all. It's all I have left at the end of the day.

I'd like it to be over, though. The end of heartbreak and sorrows... somehow this day bears heavy on my mind.

The Armstrongs burst in.

* * *

I didn't think there could have been much worse, even when I felt a strange feeling of blacking out... I woke up so soon after and no one else knew what happened.

Waiting was terrible.

There was a feeling of helplessness-- that I could do nothing-- that I couldn't shake off.

But when the Colonel arrived, blind, I couldn't help but feel a something terrible in my gut, telling me this was somehow my fault.

I think it was worse than the helplessness... but all I have is the now. I can't change the past, but maybe I could do something in the present for the future.

* * *

I don't think she acknowledges Grumman as family. He certainly wasn't seen with her, so I subscribe to the head!canon of them not getting along. Maybe her father's doing, yes?


	28. 081 Footsteps

This was supposed to be up forever ago, and I'll try to keep writing when I could because though FMA is over, its spirit won't die so easily. Anyhow. This Hundred Themes isn't over, and neither is the EdWin one. I took some time off in my senior high school year and hadn't gotten around to posting again til now, when I started college. I can't promise frequent updates, but I'll keep writing. FMA is one of my deepest fandoms.

* * *

Hundred Themes RoyAi - 081

**Footsteps**

* * *

_Hearing is the last sense to go._

Dimly, the thought ran through his brain, only to skittle over sideways and hurl itself into the abyss of forgetting.

_Lethe,_ his mind supplied, helpful at least for a little while longer. _The river of forgetfulness, of oblivion. Lethe—_

and then that thought trailed off to hang itself somewhere. That was when he remembered he was blind and could neither smell nor feel nor form words properly.

What did he remember? It was all a fragmented kaleidoscope of dizzying images, sounds and smells and feelings that he could only half-remember.

He was shot, his mind supplied, to accompany the lancing pain that seared in waves over his tired brain.

Shot swiftly, like the fulfillment of a promise. "I'm sorry, sir," and the clicking that was as ominous as it was final.

_'... If I step off the path, shoot and kill me with those hands.'_

And she had, her hands shaking and her eyes wide, her silk-soft hair tumbling out of its restraints to rest around her shoulders like a golden halo.

Riza, not simply Lieutenant, his trusted aide. It's been so long, too long since he had called her by anything but her rank it almost felt unnatural. Almost, but not quite. He could still remember that time, buried as it was under years when things were much less painful and the world was much less heavy on their shoulders. Riza Hawkeye, his teacher's daughter, the solemn, perspicacious girl-child who gave up so much of her life for other people.

Riza, his mind whispered softly one last time, his sense of her mingled with her scent, cinnamon and asphodel, spinning their own stories of entwined fortunes and regrets. And he feels pang of the latter, because he knew that she didn't deserve to add this one, painful heavy name to the list of all the other lives she'd taken.

_I wish you happiness._

Really, it was the best he could hope for her, at his own cost. With his death, she would be free of all obligations,free like the crystal tears that streamed down her face as he fell.

It was too cruel, what he asked of her.

Her footsteps echoed heavily as she walked away wearily.

Too late. He was too late.

* * *

…_.and he woke up, breathing heavily and gasping and clutching at twisted, sweat-soaked sheets._

Almost numbly he reached for the phone, hand grasping the receiver so tight the bone showed through. He paused. Breathed. Let go slowly.

_clicking that was as ominous as it was final_

He breathed, but it was nervous and air escaped from him in a strange rattling. The sound seemed so alone in the room when everything else was so silent.

_silk-soft hair tumbling_

He ran a shaky hand through his own hair, feeling the sweat soaking the strands.

_cinnamon and asphodel_

He breathed in; deep, calming breaths that caught a fragrance that wasn't there.

_free like the crystal tears_

He shut his eyes against it all, sinking deeper into his slightly lumpy bed, the sheets cool in comparison to the burning he felt.

_heavy sound of her footsteps echoed as she walked away wearily_

Shame. Remorse. Anger. Spinning a story he hadn't really thought could happen—no. No. Spinning a story he knew shouldn't ever happen, one that he had repressed viciously whenever a hint of it had shown up.

And it had come back with a vengeance.

Roy settled back down in his bed though he knew he wouldn't sleep any longer that night.

He knew he'd see her in the enemy's clutches in the morning.

However much he wished she were in his arms instead.


End file.
